


Loose Contact

by yzhuang1113



Category: DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentioned Drug Dealing, Non-Traditional, Soulmates, Tags May Change, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29170692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yzhuang1113/pseuds/yzhuang1113
Summary: This is a not-so-typical soulmate story.Again, this is a translation of ballercat's amazing work.I'm new to translating and  I read DC comics in Chinese version. I did some research, hoping it's readable but please tell me if something seems wrong.The original work is still in progress, so the tags and the warnings may change.Hope you would enjoy. Thank you!
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Comments: 17
Kudos: 120





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [【Jaydick】Loose Contact/触点不良](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26361484) by [ballercat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballercat/pseuds/ballercat). 



> This is a not-so-typical soulmate story.
> 
> Again, this is a translation of ballercat's amazing work.  
> I'm new to translating and I read DC comics in Chinese version. I did some research, hoping it's readable but please tell me if something seems wrong.  
> The original work is still in progress, so the tags and the warnings may change.  
> Hope you would enjoy. Thank you!

“Damn!” Driven beyond endurance, Red Hood halted and turned around in outrage. He pointed the gun at his stalker standing in the shadow. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Nightwing didn’t flinch at gunpoint. He seemed to be sure that the infamous mob boss wouldn’t pull the trigger. “What’s wrong with me?” He asked in a normal voice.

“How hard would it be for you to stay out of my business, Boy Wonder?” Jason sounded frustrated, “I haven’t set foot in Bludhaven or BPD for a while. I didn’t shoot any drug traffickers, smugglers, hostage-takers, or fugitives; or even intervene in any Bat-affairs, alright? Would you please just leave me alone?”

“I’m not coming after you,” Dick said calmly, and blinked. “Just do your thing.” In other words, you couldn’t stop me from following you.

Jason put the gun back to its holster. He heaved a deep sigh and gave in. “Seriously. Truce, you can tell me what the fuck you want. I may consider it; the chances are slim though. Do spare me the family interaction part, much appreciated.”

“You got hurt,” Dick said. “Take some rest. You need to recover before plunging into any dangerous activities again.”

“Are you trying to make me laugh, Blue Bird?” Jason sneered, sounded as if he’d heard an old joke. “Now you talk like a concerned mommy when waiting for her daughter who stays out all night. Am I going to need your permission if I want to go patrol? Or do you feel like we are playing house or what?”

“Vigilante work is risky, for sure,” Dick said, “but I don’t think it’s wise to carry on the mission with a bullet wound to the abdomen. Not to mention the only treatment you had was some hemostatic agent and closing the wound with a surgical stapler. To confront unknown danger, we must know better how to minimize damage.”

Jason must be frowning under his hood. “Fuck you. Did you spy on me?”

“I didn’t, “Dick said flatly.

Clearly, Jason wasn’t buying it. He started sweeping for bugs almost at once.

Knowing Jason would find nothing, Dick waited in silence while the other man checking his equipment suspiciously - oh, did he mention that his brother was a tough guy who stapled his wound without anesthesia? And thanks to that reckless behavior, Dick almost fell to his knees in BPD’s interrogation room this morning while questioning a robbery suspect.

Five minutes later, Jason gave up. Dick thought his younger brother would be rubbing that clump of white hair over his forehead if he weren’t wearing a hood. It was his nervous habit.

“Now you have two choices,” Dick said. Although he didn’t show much interest in giving orders, no one could ignore the fact that he had long been the leader and the core of the team. “You can either go back to any of your safe houses. Sterilize, debride, and wrap your wound. You need to lie down, take a rest, and give me your promise that you will be stay in bed for the next three days. Or we fight, and I will carry your unconscious body back to the Batcave – since I don’t know where your safe houses are, I have no other option.”

Jason must be shooting him a death glare.

Dick had no idea which was more offensive to Jason: being judged to be the one who would lose the fight, or the possibility that he might be carried back to Batcave. Just for a moment, Dick thought Jason was reaching for his holster, again.

But after five seconds, Jason said through gritted teeth, “I got tied up. I’m stuck with a case.”

“Give me the info,” Dick enthused. “I’ll look into it.”

Jason now sounded more confused than mad, “if you’re not out of your mind, why the hell are you doing this? If you and the Old Bat are up to something -”

Dick forced himself to ignore the noisy voices in his head. He knew one day, they would coalesce into a clear answer, but he wasn’t sure whether he wanted – or whether he could accept it.

For the moment, he was just glad that Jason seemed to know nothing about the situation, physically or mentally.

“It’s not about B. If something happens to you, as your big brother, I would take the blame - whether you admit it or not,” Dick stressed before Jason could contradict. “Especially from Alfred.”

Well, no one in the family could say no to Alfred, not even If you once ran away.

Jason stepped back. He pulled out his grappling gun and strode in the opposite direction, purposely bumping Dick’s shoulder as he passed. “If I ever find any Bat props in my place -”

“Remember to send me the clues to your case,” Dick put on a relaxed face as watching his brother leave. “By the way, you owe ten dollars to Alf’s swear jar. Don’t forget to put money in it the next time you return to the manor.”

Jason flipped him the bird before disappearing from the edge of the building.

“Now adds up to twelve and a half bucks,” Dick murmured, sinking on his knees. Sweat finally broke out on his temples. He’d been concealing his pain through the whole conversation.

Right, he neglected to mention that for reasons beyond his control, Dick shared the pain with Jason Peter Todd, AKA Red Hood, the core member of the Outlaws, the nightmare of all Gotham's criminals, Batman’s second Robin, his dear adopted brother.

\- Unfortunately, the connection somehow is unilateral.

Which means wherever Richard Grayson was, he would faithfully suffer the same pain as Jason’s while his pain nerves responding to a stimulus, and Jason would know nothing about it.

Although for most of the time, it brought him unpredictable troubles, uncertainties, and risks, Dick didn’t think of this as a burden. Especially not after he once lost the precious that he took for granted. Nothing hurt more than the fear to lose his brother again.

It was like an immeasurably profound void ready to devour him whenever he showed even slight weakness during those dark days.

For now, at least, Dick could perceive his existence. Although it was a one-way sensation, and he was straining himself, Dick still saw it as a blessing and a relief.

\- Only he was desperate to make sure that Jason was protecting and taking good care of himself.

The intelligence from Jason indicated that he was trying to identify a new drug source in Gotham - in fact, due to the countless serious cases occurring in this city, a cartel wouldn’t been put on the GCPD’s most wanted list for only a few hundred grams of meth, but Dick clearly knew how much Jason hated drugs.

Dick had been on stakeout for about an hour and a half, and finally, the burning pain under his ribs was significant eased. It wouldn’t be gone anytime soon; however, he felt less anxious at least - Jason might be astute, paranoid, irritable, and stubborn, but honesty was one of the amiable qualities he possessed - Red Hood had gained prestige by being a man of his word as well as maintaining his deterrent.

Dick could finally relax a little and turned his attention back to the ongoing trade. No one would notice the blue bird lurking on the steel frame above their heads. They were trained to master the skill.

The transaction went smoothly and fast; unfortunately, both parties didn’t look familiar to Dick - hey, that was unfair. Recently, he stayed in Gotham much longer than usual. Gotta be some sort of record. But it was no big deal for Nightwing.

Dick messaged Jason when they were about to finish. “Just sent you the full recording, but both sides have been very cautious not to leak any useful info.”

Jason responded immediately, with an emotionless “KAYYY”. Dick redid a pain assessment and got the conclusion that his brother was in a resting state or something close.

“Two mini locator transmitters are now operating, code A-N9 and A-N7. You should be able to find them on the frequency you know. Or do you feel like to ‘ask’ someone? You know, I’m more than glad to do the job for you, free of charge.”

“No. Don’t spook them,” Jason said, “and it’s time for you to come back to the nest, Dicky-bird.”

Dick smiled, though Jason couldn’t see it. “Only if you behave and take your time to convalesce,” he typed, “Trust me, it’s better for both of us.”

“…Thank you for the unnecessary concern. Get your little ass off my case asap, Dick.” The other guy sent a warning.

“You’re the boss,” Dick replied and slipped his phone back in the pocket.

Anyway, he trusted Jason’s instincts for sensing danger and evil. His brother lived on his instincts. It might get him injured but also helped him survive - though it wasn’t efficacious every time.

Dick was waiting for Red Robin to answer his call while jumping from the steel frame and landing gracefully with a flashy somersault.

“Hey, Timbo. If you wouldn’t mind, your big brother need a favor.”


	2. Chapter 2

“You asked if Jason would team up with B? Yes, but not often. Or to be more precise, rarely.” They met in a café close to Gotham High during lunch break. Tim, in his school uniform, shrugged at Dick. “You know what they're like – they won’t be each other’s first choice. I think if B got the time, he’d rather summon you.”

Roughly the same as Dick’s presumption. They’d experienced a period of conflict and turmoil, but now they had reached sort of balance, close to a non-interfering relationship. If unnecessary, Red Hood wouldn’t push the boundaries of Batman, and in exchange, he could retain freedom of action, relatively. The ties between Bruce Wayne and Jason Todd … were delicate.

That was why Jason wasn’t dragged back to the Manor for immediate treatment after getting shot – Bruce was unaware of it.

“How did you know he was shot?” Tim gazed at Dick with a sharp, penetrating look. “To my knowledge, you were in Bludhaven yesterday.”

“Aha,” said Dick, half-heartedly, “some sort of coincidence.”

But Tim was not somebody he can fool. Five minutes ago, being throwed a barrage of questions, Dick had to admit that he was helping Jason with a case so Jason would recover sooner – which Red Robin had no problem with. He just doubted how Dick knew Jason was injured when other vigilantes in Gotham were uninformed.

“Jason’s counter-intelligence skill is so damn good, as good as he is with a gun,” Tim said. “You think we didn’t even try? Obviously, B is more reluctant to ask Roy about how Jason’s doing – “

“That scene gotta be marvelous,” Dick murmured.

“So, you and Jason -”

“I can only tell you I didn’t have more personal contact with him than you guys did, or I could stop him from doing something foolish earlier,” Dick confessed. “For the rest, maybe you'd get to know someday. I’m sorry, Tim. It’s not a good time.”

“Why your excuse sounds so familiar?” Tim shook his head and checked his watch, then sliding a memory card to Dick. “Everything you need is in there – by the way, if you see Jason, tell him Alf will be more than happy to prepare a Christmas-Eve-level dinner for him, if he’d like to come back home.”

“At your service,” Dick replied with a soft smile, “But is that just Alfie’s idea?”

“… You know, you sometimes talk too much.”

“I’d like to think that’s my charm.”

“Just keep a low profile. Okay? The situation can get complicated if B finds out.” Tim Sighed, standing up to flatten out the wrinkles on his shirt. “And keep in touch - you know what I mean.”

This case was kind of wired. With the help of Tim, Dick tracked down the buyer, a minor mob boss who controlled half of the storefronts on a side street in Burnley, but that chaotic street actually belonged to Falcone Family.

Carmine, who might be considered as one of the very few relatively sane mob bosses in Gotham, was attempting to encroach on the drug market which Red Hood had spent nearly two years to gain control and regulate. Dick was furious, but he was pretty sure that Jason knew the situation better than he did, and he wouldn’t mind taking radical actions to teach the Roman a lesson on when to quit.

So, he was more concerned with the other side. Dick followed the signal from the transmitter to find the seller. These guys were surprised to see him - Dick was in his uniform, but they couldn’t even tell the difference between a BPD badge and a GCPD badge.

They were crammed in a stuffy rental house with musty wallpaper. The room was filled with the pot smell and the cacophony of noise.

“We were paid a good sum of money to deliver the goods to the appointed place and keep our mouth shut. To be honest, we’ve no idea what was in the box. We never met the man who hired us,” said a fat guy,” but they paid well, so why not?”

“You do realize that drug trafficking is a felony, whether you know you were involved or not, right?” Dick asked.

The fat guy looked nonchalant. “So, are you going to arrest me, officer?”

Dick didn’t arrest these knuckleheads - Gotham was out of his jurisdiction. However, when he attempted to call Commissioner Gordon, he realized that he couldn’t use Jason’s information or Nightwing’s witness to testify that they were involved in drug trafficking. Unless he caught them red handed.

Dick was sitting on the step outside an apartment building when the pain under his ribs returned. So, he played with a street cat to distract himself a bit. Till someone kicked him at his shins with the tip of a worn boot.

“So, everything I said was nonsense to you, right?”

Dick looked up and saw Red Hood, annoyed, in his street-clothes jacket, with some grocery bags in his arms - and without his hood.

“Hey,” Dick could hear his heart beating, in a very slow rhythm, pumping blood through his veins. The pain was still there, but it subsided, becoming less irritating.

“Hey, my ass.” Jason rolled his eyes. “Didn’t we agreed that you would stay out of my business? And who the hell said he didn’t know where my safe houses were?”

“Oh, speaking of this,” said Dick, cheerfully, “Roy thinks there’s got to be someone who can take care of you when he’s in space, and I happen to be a reliable choice.”

Jason turned and walked down the hall. “Well, all I know is someone’s ass is about to get hurt.”

Dick said bye to that calico cat and followed behind. “How’s your wound?”

Staying silent, Jason strode to the front door and pulled out his keys, only glaring at Dick when he stepped forward to hold the grocery bags for him.

“Are you coming in?” After entering his apartment, Jason finally spoke to Dick, who was still waiting outside the door. “Or are you just going to stand there all day?”

Dick smiled and let himself in. He didn’t miss the moment when the tips of Jason’s ears turned pink.

“Now I get it. You just won’t leave me alone, unless I hand you what you want.” Jason babbled as heading to the espresso machine - yeah, he had a fucking espresso machine in his safe house. “Guess who gets whatever he wants since childhood?”

Dick sat down at a small dining table close to the kitchen and propped his head up onto his hands to stare at Jason’s back. Without his hood, the young man, who had turned the Gotham underworld upside down with his two guns, inadvertently showed a more personal side of him. Dick couldn’t help but start to imagine that, if they were not vigilante, Jason should be enjoying his campus life at this age.

“How did you know they were dealing with drugs?” Dick cut to the chase. “I was guided by your intelligence – but after thinking it over, I realized that you were not supposed to know the details of the transaction. Since Falcone is in all types of business which can earn him profits.”

Jason shrugged and sighed. “I knew you’d investigate further.”

“Yeah, you know me well.”

While waiting for their coffee, Jason turned back and curled his lip, “Is there any way I could make you quit, Grayson?”

“Jay,” Dick insisted, “together we can solve this case faster. If the incident escalates, I won’t be the one interfering with your business. Not to mention your wound--”

“Fine. But you gotta promise you won’t hide anything from me,” Jason interrupted, unpleasantly. He turned his back again, plonking the coffee mug on the counter, spilling a few drops of hot brown liquid on the back of his hand. At almost the same time, Dick let out a gasp of pain.

Dick put his right hand under the table, red-faced, but Jason captured the quick movement. “What’s wrong?” He scowled.

“Nothing.” Dick looked away. “Let’s get down to business.”

Jason studied his face for a moment before setting two steaming mugs on the table and taking a seat. “I know because that’s not the first transaction,” he said tersely, “and it’s not only sold to the Roman.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This new supplier is discreet and cautious. It seemed he was sounding out the potential buyers. He wanted to make sure his goods would be sold to the highest bidder,” Jason explained. “He had sold a small batch of sample to Cobblepot before dealing with Falcone. Price isn’t high.”

Dick was trying to get the sugar cubes out of a tin on the table. “How do you know what was in the box when Oz and Carmine weren’t alerted? How do you know the amount of the transaction volume?”

“Because…” Jason hesitated for a moment before reluctantly admitting, “I received the drug samples, too.”

“Aha, I see,” Dick nodded. “The supplier doesn’t seem to know what Red Hood is really up to.” Looking at his brother’s long face, he couldn’t help but feel amused. “Isn’t that what you want, hmm?”

And Jason was still sulking.

Dick put down the mug. He grabbed Jason’s right hand, then running his thumb over the scald on the back of that hand. Jason seemed shocked and unsure about whether he should pull his hand back or just let Dick hold it.

“So, what's so special about these drugs?” Dick continued. “I don’t think you have enough energy or time to fight every crime.”

Jason remained silent for a moment. “It’s crystal meth, at market price.” He finally replied. “But the purity of this batch is in excess of 90%”

Dick’s smile faded, “What the hell?! This is going to be huge.”

“Yeah.” Jason sighed and eyed him. “I know.”

Most meth in circulation was around 70% pure. The profit brought by the new type of meth would drive the entire underworld crazy. It was no exaggeration to say that whoever took control of this supply chain would become the new crime lord of Gotham.

“Not all candidates of Blackgate are in the drug business, but money is money.” Jason added. “Here’s the trouble: I’ve been manipulating the distribution channels, but never got involved in drug sales. Simply put, I need to trace the source, since I know no better way to prevent a potential gang war.”

“Do you have the contact information of the supplier?” Dick asked, thoughtfully.

Jason pursed his lips. “Anything you think of has been taken into account, But the supplier demanded one-way communication. Don’t want to be passive, so I went after Falcone.”

“Then you should propose a buyout.” Dick said decisively. “Thus, we can track down the supplier.”

“Money issue aside,” Jason frowned at Dick, whose eyes were blazing with enthusiasm, “I won’t have time to deal with the other gangs out there.”

“What are you worried about?” Before pulling back his hand, Dick squeezed Jason’s calloused palm, contentedly. “You’re not alone.”


	3. Chapter 3

If there was anything Jason had learned from his long experience in dealing with the dark side of Gotham, it was that in this city, maintaining a balance of powers worked better than trying to exterminate all the crimes - since the forces of darkness couldn’t be eradicated, there was a necessity to contain their activities with a certain limit.

To fight fire with fire was bloody, direct, and simple, and Jason was used to it. He relished the recoil of the firearms, the heat of the barre, and the smell of sulfur in the air. It might not be a good idea to dive into a quagmire, but someone had to take the burden.

Until one day, he realized that unless he could kick all these troublemakers into the deluxe single cells of Arkham or Blackgate at the same time, the evils of the city would never die out. They would revive, in one form or another, again and again. In the dark corners where the sunlight couldn’t reach, the shadows stretched out like vines.

Obviously, he couldn’t accomplish it, and neither could Batman.

He wished that everything could be fixed by putting a bullet in someone’s head. When it didn't work, things got a bit tricky. It was only then that Red Hood had to admit that he was still partially influenced by Batman – regardless of their different temperaments, everyone in the family was skilled in developing plans and getting things rolling.

He shunned the outstretched arms of other vigilantes and kept a close eye on the corners neglected by GCPD. In order to get drug trafficking under his control and to maneuver between gangs when necessary, he became one of the heads of the underworld. He wanted to make sure that petty thieves wouldn’t become desperate; orphans wouldn’t go astray; kids and teenagers would stay where they belonged – so that minor crimes would not develop into major crimes.

Though the world didn’t always operate the way Jason wanted it to, his work was fruitful. The caseload didn’t drop, but the major crime rates was gradually decreasing across Gotham city. Gangs were counterbalanced, sort of. They’d kept a low profile for a while, since after all, no one wanted to be conspicuous and got their asses kicked by Batman and his proteges.

The not-so-ideal stability was hard-earned, and Jason knew better than anyone how fragile it was - just as now, the hidden benefit of a new meth could easily break the balance.

Jason received a call from the supplier three days after Dick showed up at his front door.

His voice was digitally altered, sounded all weird over the airwaves. “Mr. Red Hood, are you satisfied with my merchandise?”

“It’s worthwhile.” Jason chose his words with care, glancing to the side. “But according to my sources, you have other counterparties. You know, it’s against my rules.”

“Oh, that’s right. You are the third bidder.” The supplier laughed shrilly. He seemed to have no intention to hide anything. “It’s my call - when you’re holding the world's highest-quality diamonds, you have the privilege to pick the buyer of your choice.”

“May I ask who the others are also showing interest?”

“I know you, Mr. Red Hood. You’ve controlled the drug trade in Gotham for quite a while, and you clearly know that my product will change the city. It is revolutionary. I’m only looking for discerning buyers like you.”

“The finest diamond would also put its owner in danger.” Jason frowned. “How do you know I’m willing to take enormous risks and be led by the nose?”

The supplier suddenly raised his voice. It took on the high-pitched rasp. “Because you need to. You have to. It’s in your nature – that’s how you people roll, right? You’d do whatever it takes to make greater profits. For the bondless desire, you guys are prepared to trample whatever blocks your way - or are you telling me you’re special?”

Jason put on a calm face. His gaze fixed on the same spot, but there were waves of emotion in his eyes. “I’m not special, but I’m no less cautious than you. If I promise to make you a deal, how do I know you won’t go behind my back? I need your supply chain, but safety is still my priority – above all, it’s worthless if I won’t have the chance to spend the money.”

“I won't guarantee anything.” He said coldly. “But you can start by telling me your price and your terms.”

Jason wet his lips. “I can match the highest bid and pay you an extra ten percent, as long as it’s lower than 1.5 times the market price of meth.”

“I got it.” He hung up before Jason could reply.

With a muttered curse, Jason tossed the phone sullenly back on the counter.

“Watch your language, Jay,” Sitting at a computer, Dick just took off his headphones and gave Jason a reproachful look from across the room.

“What do you think?” Jason muttered.

“As expected, we can’t locate him - or, more accurately, it’s pointless,” Dick said while shaking his head. “He is very discreet. He used a burner to call you, and he was on the busiest shopping street in the Diamond District. We can track down the signal, but we won’t be able to identify him in the crowd. I have to admit it was quite professional.”

Jason folded his arms. “Did you record it?”

“Yes, I can run a voiceprint analysis, but I won’t hold my breath.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Jason said. “Did you hear his tone? When he called me mercenary, his voice was dripping with sarcasm.” He tilted his head while thinking. “I felt strange. It seemed -”

“- as if he has a history with you, or someone in your position, and based on that, he’d developed a strong, unshakable subjective perception,” Dick finished his sentence. “I met many such people when working for BPD. They tend to think they behave absolutely perfectly.”

“Yes,” Jason agreed. “Yes, that’s it.”

He blurted out the words before seeing Dick’s meaning smile. Jason looked away and started to wonder how he and Dick became … intimate, in just two days.

And for these two days, Dick only showed up during the daytime – he promised that he wouldn’t inform Bruce, and in exchange, Jason allowed him to take part in this case. But at the same time, he was courteous, with an “I won’t bother you unless you need me” attitude, acting as if he was not the same guy that chased Red Hood halfway across Gotham. This was getting on Jason’s nerves as well as raising his spleen. Since he couldn’t find a single chance to throw tantrums, he gave in, eventually. This morning, when Dick came to his place, carrying a bag full of fresh groceries in his arms, Jason struggled for a while to find some strict complaints, but he failed to find any words other than “stop meddling”.

Somehow, the faint voice in Jason’s head kept warning him not to hurt Dick Grayson in any way - even when the blue bird was invading his personal space, openly.

“Well, there’s nothing you can do about it right now,” Dick stood up and walked towards Jason. He pulled out the medical kit from the cabinet as he passed by. “The bait is in place. The next step is waiting for a bite.”

Jason was instantly on the alert. “What are you doing?”

“I’m here for two matters, which are equally important. To solve the drug case, and -” Dick slapped the medical kit on the counter in front of his brother and finished the sentence calmly, “To tend to your wound.”

Jason took a half step back. “I can handle it -”

“You breathed more rapidly than usual last evening,” Dick said, leaning forward to put his hand on Jason’s slightly sweaty forehead before Jason could escape. “Just as I suspected.” He frowned.

Jason stiffened under his brother’s touch, and before he could figure out a plan for the current situation, he found himself sitting in a chair with his shirt off.

“See? Your wound is still bleeding slightly, and it’s infected.” Dick said, naturally getting down to make sure there were no signs of peritoneal irritation. Then he cut the bloody bandage with a pair of surgical scissors. The wound was through-and through and now it was swollen. “Let me debride your wound. And you might need to adjust the dosage of oral antibiotic.”

“You -” Jason opened his mouth in bewilderment. “How’d you know that?”

Dick didn’t answer. Instead, he checked the gunshot wound with caution. It was a clean entry wound. No additional injury was spotted. He raised his head and looked at Jason with soft eyes. “There are some adhesions. I’ll need to open the wound a little bit. Do you want some anesthesia?”

Jason hesitated for a moment. Then he pulled out a piece of gauze pad and put it in his mouth. “It’s all right, go ahead.”

Dick drew a calming breath and looked back at this young body. It was pale, muscled, and scarred. The most conspicuous mark was a deep, y-shaped scar, starting from his two shoulders, intersecting at his chest, and cutting all the way down – it was the only wound on Jason’s body that Dick didn’t suffer.

But it was also the one hurt him most

“Here I go.” Dick said, clenching his jaw as he raised the forceps.

Batman had trained them well. For most of the time, they were good at patching themselves up. It was like an everyday routine, almost as easy as eating or drinking. But right now, it seemed like it wasn’t going well. Dick had to stop several times to steady his wrists for each step. Shortly after, his forehead and neck were glistening with beads of sweat.

“Dick,” Jason captured the shaky breathing. He pulled Dick up from the floor after his brother tied the last bandage around his waist to secure it.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asked gravely, staring at Dick’s pale face. The room was now filled with the smell of blood and ethanol.

“I’m fine,” Dick lowered his head and threw the used gauze pad into a sterile tray. But his brother was still holding his wrist, tightly and firmly, insisting on an answer to his suspicion.

“Fine?” Jason repeated strangely. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Jason hated anesthetics. The numbness he felt when losing control of a part of his body was so horrible that the fear of the feeling could override his physical repulsion to the pain – Once you experienced such trauma, the fear would haunt you for the rest of your life.

\- More specifically, pain was never something delightful, but it sure made him feel alive.

Despite Jason’s own mess, he could still tell if someone was enduring discomfort. Especially... especially when it came to Dick Grayson. This guy had always been good at keeping secrets. Everything he didn't want the others to know was buried beneath his appearance of calm and grace. His friendly banter only added to his charm, and it turned out that people were drawn to his exterior attraction, uncontrollably.

Clearly, Jason no longer fell in that category – he’d been duped by his glittering predecessor for so many times, but it turned out Nightwing’s trick wouldn’t work for now.

“Grayson, take off your clothes, now.” Jason said slowly and firmly. “If I find that you are babbling about my gunshot wound while you have any more serious health issues than a cut on your finger by a can opener, I swear it won’t end there.” He paused and added, “I let you bandage me, not so that you can humiliate me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part of this chapter is so hard to translate. Hope I didn't ruin the author's nice metaphors. If anything seems wrong (or hard to understand), please, please tell me.


	4. Chapter 4

Dick had no doubt that there was supposed to be a quarrel between them. The only reason he could quietly leave Jason’s safe house was that Jason couldn’t see the lock, which was a silver lining - even though he did hold the key to it.

“I’m fine,” Dick insisted. “I’m certainly not the one of us who’s in worse shape.” He took off his shirt calmly – at least, he pretended to be calm. He didn’t resist even when Jason gave him an internal examination with the Radioscopic System.

And of course, Jason found nothing. Not surprisingly, Dick was scarred, but there was no serious visible physical injury. However, after this episode, they could finally stop talking about his health condition, and get back to what they really should discuss, such as an analysis of the follow-up situation and a small bat-plan.

“I’ll contact you if he calls again,” Jason said, with his hands resting on the door frame. He had grown so much – he stood there like a high, solid wall, which almost filled the door frame.

Clearly, this was a gentle reminder that Dick should leave. He realized if Jason didn’t want to let him in, he had a fifty-fifty chance to win this battle, at best.

Dick knew that Jason’s wound had stopped bleeding. As long as he took his meds, the antibiotics would bring the fever down and clear up the infection. He would recover from the injury in no more than a few weeks.

“Alright,” Dick agreed without any arguments, “but I hope you can keep in touch with me.”

Jason scowled, standing in silence for a moment, then nodded curtly.

However, he could still see suspicion in Jason’s eyes in the split second before he left

Tim Drake never thought he would get a call from Red Hood. He triple-checked the contact info on the screen before answering.

“I suppose you just got words that Gotham will be in ruins tomorrow?” Tim asked.

Jason replied with a snort, seemed like he didn’t appreciate Tim’s sense of humor. “Is Grayson with you?” Jason asked straight out, skipping the pleasantries.

“No,” said Tim, with surprise. “Haven't seen him recently.”

“But you kept in touch with him.” It was not a question and Tim could only reply vaguely. Jason knew Dick well to some extent. Their older brother had always been caring about his families. However, Tim was not supposed to know the details about Dick’s involvement in Jason’s case.

“You’re certainly not calling to say ‘keep warm in cold weather’ ” Tim asked cautiously, “so what can I do for you, Hood?”

“Did you notice anything off about Grayson?” It was not the question Tim was expecting, he then realized that Jason hadn’t found out what he and Dick were doing – Jason called him for something else. Now, nothing could stop him from satisfying his curiosity.

“What does that mean specifically?”

“Literally anything. Whether he was physically or mentally injured, or he got into some sort of trouble that he was pushing himself to the edge, again.”

Well, close enough, except that the only ‘trouble’ he got himself in was caused by the one talking to me at this very moment. “Not that I know of,” Tim sighed silently. “So, did you find anything wrong with him?”

“He didn’t look well,” Jason said dryly, sounded like he was forcing himself to have this conversation. “This morning, when he tended to my gunshot wound, he was pale and shaky.”

“I’d love to help,” Tim said, “However, It sounds to me like you saw him more often than I did recently.” He then added something a bit mean - oh God, he’d wanted to do this for so long. “Or did you just admit I’m better at digging up info than you?”

“Call it what you want.” Jason wasn’t offended. He just continued bluntly. “You should go check him. He won't be able to refuse you. Or you can ask him to come back to the Manor. Alfred can always find the problem.”

“Wow -” said Tim feelingly. “That’s absolutely epic.”

“To be honest, I’m pretty sure there's something off about him. However, when he was around me…” Jason paused for quite a while, then continued, “it seemed like he was in a glass box. I got a feeling he might suffocated in there. He has no intention of admitting his true feelings. I’m not sure whether it’s just for me - maybe it is, who knows? Unless that idiot decides to be bogged down to death. Then, he should win a Razzie for worst actor or something.”

Tim’s mouth dropped open. He was shocked by Jason’s straightforwardness - that was something extremely uncommon. “I’ll try,” he said at last, as sincerely as he could.

“I know you will. Just say nothing about our conversation.” Jason hung up neatly, just like the way he called.

Before Tim could figure out an airtight reason to propose a meeting with Dick, he received another unexpected call, from Nightwing himself. “Hey, Tim. Do me a favor?”

“Cut me some slack.” Tim moaned. “Every single favor you’ve asked me either implicated some big inside stories or required tons of follow-up work.”

“Oh, just admit it, Timbo. As a member of the family, you’re addicted to things like this.”

“A family of adrenaline junkies? Awesome, dude.” Tim said while he was still going over his conversation with Jason slowly and carefully. “Let me guess. Another Robin-2’s case?”

“Yeah, I got to stay in Gotham for a while, at the cost of depleting my annual leave.”

“Tell me what you want while I still have a bit of sympathy for you.”

“Love you,” Dick said with a soft chuckle. “I know you have eyes and ears all over Gotham.”

“Wow, I'm so flattered. Who are you looking for?”

“Carmine Falcone and Oswald Cobblepot.”

“It’s viable,” Tim said with an objective tone, “but you know, it’s no easy job.”

“You bet. I won’t let you work alone.” Dick answered immediately. “Only this time, I’m on a tight schedule, or I’ll do it myself.”

“So, I assume you're not going to tell him about this?” Tim said, after a moment's reflection.

“No,” Dick admitted.

“I suppose you have your reasons.” said Tim. “I don’t know much about Jason, not as much as you, but as far as I can see, he won’t be happy.”

This was a test. Tim could feel the tension between the first Robin and his successor since … a long time ago, as early as Jason just returned as Red Hood and a fierce, radical, disgruntled revenger – though It was not that he got much better now. The thing between them was more than just hostility, confrontation, retention, or guilt. It was complex, like a special but disturbing link. They were all tangled up, although it was no one’s intent.

Tim would say it was a type of instinct, running through their veins.

“No, he certainly won’t.” Dick muttered. “I don’t know what’s wrong with this case, but I got a bad feeling - you know, the birds’ sixth sense, sort of. But I can’t be sure. Jason is badly injured, and he has a slight fever, so I don’t want to bother him. Not until I figure out what the problem is.”

Tim could feel his heart palpitating with emotion. “He’s in bad shape. How about you?”

“Me?” Dick was a little surprised to be asked the question. “I’ve been fine. It’s not like you haven’t seen me -”

“Well, you’re now in Gotham, why don’t you come back to the Manor? I think Alfred would be more than happy to see you.” Tim said, smiling as he led Dick into the trap.” Come on, Dick, it will be more efficient. We can get most of the work done before bed.

Dick hesitated for a while. That was not his style - anyone could tell he was avoiding his family for the last two years. They were still intimate, and the elder brother was still trying to take care of everyone else, but they didn’t meet so often.

Dick, what on earth are you hiding?

“…I can never resist you, right?” Dick said in a loving voice and let out a sigh. ”Tell Alfie I’ll be there before dinner.”


	5. Chapter 5

Even the classic club sandwiches and hot black tea which the old butler brought to the Batcave could be count as the most satisfying meal Dick had had recently. One of the less obvious reasons might be that Bruce was on watch duty.

“Master Dick, Master Timothy,” Alfred greeted them with a polite nod. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I already have all I want. There's just one small thing…” Dick mumbled after taking his first big bite. “May I pack some sandwiches for breakfast?” He asked, gratefully and hopefully.

“We’ve just received a delivery of fresh vegetable from master Bruce’s farm this morning, so I think it would be fairly simple to fulfil your small extra request.” said the old butler in a gentle voice. “But I wouldn’t recommend talking with your mouth full.”

So, only after he swallowed the crispy fried bacon and fresh tomato did Dick opened his mouth again. “Always love you, Alf,”

Tim didn’t stop moving his fingers while Alfred excused himself. “So, did Jason starve you?” He asked with a smile.

“What's this nonsense?” Dick let out a sigh while rubbing on his waist without realizing. “Alfred’s cooking is beyond compare.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Tim said while looking at Dick enquiringly. “Did you get hurt?”

“Ah – no, I’m fine.” Dick dropped his hand almost immediately. “Don’t worry.”

It seemed like Grayson was in a glass box.

Tim didn’t realize it until Jason said so. He used to look up to his big brother. Dick was regarded as the role model who was capable of managing his own affairs. He was always independent and deliberate, but Tim never looked close enough to notice the unnecessary gilt rim of his symbol.

Now that Tim was alerted by Jason’s words, he couldn’t help but started wondering what Dick was like from Jason’s point of view.

“Are you sure you're Okay?” Said Tim, in a casual voice. “Alf certainly hope you could come back more often. You know, Bludhaven is not that far.”

“Yeah, I will.” Dick sighed. “If one day I could arrange the schedule of BPD.”

Tim turned his gaze back to Nightwing – maskless, trace of circles under those bright blue eyes. He rarely showed signs of fatigue. Most of the time, his stunning visage covered those up.

“I’m serious, Dick. You know I can do more than that, right? Whenever you need me, I'm here.”

“I love you, too, Timbo.” Dick replied. His face relaxed into a soft smile.

“I hate your comprehension,” Tim complained, but his blushing face gave him away.

Alright, that might be all he could get for now, but Tim wouldn’t give up the right to search for more indications. He knew it wouldn’t be easy if this stuff was serious enough that Jason lowered himself to ask for his help. He needed to stay patient.

Red Robin’s efficiency wasn’t influenced by the irrelevant talks. After the steady clacking of the keyboard, the Batcomputer emitted a chirp. “Got 'em!” Tim said, cheerfully.

“Where are they?”

“The Penguin stays on the iceberg, of course,” he made a bad pun. “Carmine should be in his penthouse in the Diamond District -”

“Should?”

“He’s out of my sight, but his men are wandering in that neighborhood,” Tim said while thinking it through. “Besides the drug trade case you’re following, they didn’t cause much trouble lately.” He stared at the screen, paused for a moment, then continued in a low, calm voice. “To be honest, although Bruce is not in favor of what Jason is doing, it actually works … in Gotham, at least.”

Dick’s eyes darkened and his brow wrinkled. “He chose this way because he knew it would work. Sometimes … no, most of the time, he neglects what would it cost him to get what he wants.”

“Well, it sounds like you’re not a big fan of his idea.”

“I might call it selfishness,” Dick conceded.

“If you say so …” Tim said, glancing at Dick. “I’m not going to make any comments. I believe you have good reason to draw that conclusion.”

Before Dick could open his mouth, they both heard Cobblepot’s voice from their earphones – apparently, he was talking to someone on the phone. As a man with extreme arrogance and in such position, the Penguin seldom took calls in person - unless the caller was someone important.

Nightwing and Red Robin exchanged a look and jumped into work mode.

“Coordinates confirmed,” Dick whispered.

Based on the positioning information sent by Dick, Tim quickly found the radio frequency in the Iceberg Lounge. it took less than 30 seconds to hack that simple encrypted line – unless anything in the world was considered to be “strongly encrypted” for the Bat-family.

Their ears were immediately filled with a high-pitched electronic sound. Although that was the second time Dick had heard it, he still couldn’t describe how thrilling it was, sounded like the noise of a knife scraping against the glass. Jason’s helmet had a voice modulator as well, but he used it to disguise his voice rather than to intimidate others.

Jason sometimes needed to contact with civilians on his patrol.

“Is that Jason’s voice, like, for real?” Tim asked suddenly.

“Yep,” Dick said. “I was there.”

The mysterious supplier was playing a recording of his conversation with Red Hood to Cobblepot. Dick couldn’t say he was surprised that he recorded it. Jason’s voice was scrambled, but he sounded calm, astute, and arrogant, as if he really were a lord of the underworld.

“Wow, I gotta say, as someone who knows what he's really up to – excluding the part he gave Bruce trouble - I think he’s doing great.”

“Ahem, you’d better not say that to his face.”

“Yeah, need to be tender with that little heart since it has been dealt a severe blow,” Tim nodded. “Since it’s Jason we are talking about, don’t you feel you might think too fragile of him?”

“Never thought of him that way.” Dick protested. “I just hope he could avoid some unnecessary harm -”

“Unless he doesn’t want to.”

Dick stopped arguing and stared down at his fingertips with an expression of sullen resentment. Tim wasn’t sure whether he was angry at Jason or himself. The conversation between the Penguin and the supplier went on.

“I can match the highest bid and pay you an extra ten percent -” Red Hood’s voice stopped abruptly. The recording was paused.

“What’s your opinion, Mr. Cobblepot? “The mystery man burst into a penetrating laugh. “Can you perceive Red Hood’s ambition from his words? He made me a very tempting offer to get his hands on this technique - and I think you clearly know if he gets it, you might find something you won’t like in the Gotham underworld. A new, impregnable drug empire, I guess?”

“Just tell me your terms. I don’t like to talk with an opera singer speaking in a creepy falsetto voice.” Said the Penguin testily. “You know the key to our deal. I assure you I am far richer than a kid running around with a stupid red bucket. He won't be able to pay for his bid.”

“Well, you cannot know this. Afterall, no one has ever seen Red Hood’s face. How do you feel about doing business with an unidentified man in helmet? Won’t it bother you, Mr. Cobblepot?” The supplier’s voice sounded shrill and odd. He seemed not so happy with the reply he got. “Nonetheless, I've got every reason to believe you won’t let it become a problem – I certainly want to ensure my safety as well as getting a satisfactory price, and obviously, you won’t get what you want if you are only offering me one of them.”

“You little son of b-” The Penguin scolded. Then, seeming to realize something, he chuckled in his hideous merriment. “Oh, oh, oh. You _will_ contact me after I pay the deposit, won’t you? You know I won’t mind if I need to comb every inch of Gotham to dig out a little bug like you.”

“Yes, that's what everybody else keeps saying. Just remember, there’re other anxious buyers.” He hung up before the Penguin could say anything.

Then, Dick’s and Tim’s earphones were filled with profanities.


	6. Chapter 6

“Do you know what they’re talking about?” asked Tim. “That might be one of the most disgusting auctions I’ve ever heard.”

“Please play it back,” Dick said, pressing his fingertips against the ear hooks of the earphones. He even put down his half-eaten sandwich, and Tim could clearly see his frown creasing deeper.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“Something is off.” Dick said. “That’s definitely not the deal he made with Jason. I was there. I could recall their conversation in every detail. I -” He jerked his head toward Tim, and all the color just drained from his face. “Does Jason still go patrol every night?” He asked with a look of horror and uncertainty.

“Yes, he does,” Tim said. He got a feeling that he shouldn’t pretend not to know. “But I swear it wasn’t my idea to add a recognition feature for Jason’s helmet to the surveillance system.”

“What about tonight?”

Tim slid his chair to the other end of the control desk and tapped some keys. “As always. He was spotted on his usual route for a couple of times, but he knew we’d see him, and he obviously didn’t like it. Most of the time, he was beyond our views. You know how good he is at avoiding the cameras.”

“And now?”

“No sign of him.” Tim switched between videos from different surveillance cameras. “He was last seen in downtown Gotham, thirty-two minutes ago.”

Dick didn’t say anything. He dialed a number, waited for two minutes, and got no response. Then he dropped the earphones and jumped out of his seat to get his spare gear in the Batcave – he wasn’t wearing the Nightwing suit. It was supposed to be a peaceful night with his family, although they did have some monitoring and analysis work to do.

“What’s wrong?” Tim felt giddy as he tried to keep up with Dick’s thought as well as his stride. “Hey, you will need my help! Tell me what’s happening!”

“Jason made that psychopath a bid for the supply chain. We only want to find the man behind the curtain. Jason clearly has no interest in high-grade drugs!” Tim had never seen Dick so rattled. His fingers trembled so much that he mis-buttoned his utility belt for three times before putting it on properly. Dick continued in a voice husky with anxious, “but he intended to sell Cobblepot the manufacture technique - for fuck's sake, those are two completely different things! He showed Jason a diamond, but he told the Penguin that Red Hood would risk everything to get the diamond mine! What would you do in Cobblepot’s place?”

Tim understood right away, and he jumped into action. “Don’t worry, the Penguin just got off the phone. We still have time-”

“No, we don’t. Falcone isn’t in his penthouse, but he fucking should be!”

“Oh God.” Tim’s face turned pale.

Dick drew a calming breath. He knew better than anyone that nothing bad happened to Jason, yet. The last thing he needed right now was panic. Red Hood hadn’t been warned of the threat, but he was used to play with deadly danger.

Jason was a survivor – except once - even if that didn’t mean he could survive intact every time.

Whereas Dick had had enough of this shit.

“But that doesn’t make any sense. If he assumed Red Hood couldn’t pay him a satisfactory price, why would he contact Red Hood in the first place?” Tim muttered as walking toward his bike. “What will he get from the death of Red Hood? Cobblepot and Falcone would be able to lower the price if there’re fewer bidders. Afterall, although highly pure meth can bring huge profits, few people in Gotham could swallow this piece of cake without choking themselves to death -”

Then his mouth snapped shut – as he saw Dick’s face contorting with pain, and then he fell off the bike.

“Dick? Damn!” Tim was startled. He rushed to Dick and helped him move the Wingcycle. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

Dick took a couple of deep breaths with his eyes half shut. However, when Tim begun to examine his body, he grabbed Tim by the wrist.

“… I’m fine. Just an accident.” He managed to say the words through clenched teeth. “Jason -”

“Right, Jason. It’s all about Jason! I got it.” Tim growled at him, “but would you please deal with your own issues first?”

“No,” Dick said, clutching his side. It seemed he was still in great pain. He took another breath to settle his nerves before staggering up with Tim’s help. “Jason is under attack. We gotta get to him … before things get worse.”

“Yeah, that’s our plan, as I recall.” Tim paused, staring at Dick queerly. “Oh shit, you couldn’t reach Jason a minute ago. How do you know he’s in trouble? It’s not the first time you -”

Dick was on his feet, frowning, and his lips were almost white, but he managed to pull himself together, as if he had gone through things like this for thousands of times.

“Just pain. No wound.” Tim concluded. Fixing his eyes on Nightwing who were ready to jump on his bike again, Tim said in a trembling voice, “my God, Dick! Pain of unknown etiology. It's no accident. As happened two years ago, you are in _that_ condition, again. I’m such a fool for missing something so obvious!”

Tim almost drowned in his remorse. “Is that what I think it is?” He asked hopelessly. “Don’t fool me.”

“I’m sorry, Tim. It’s just…It’s not a good time.”

“Don't that sound familiar? You always say that.” Tim huffed. “Don’t I deserve a goddamn explanation at this point?”

Dick looked away, hiding his clean-cut face in shadows. “You’re partially right. We _were_ soul mates, but after he came back, something doesn’t seem to be functioning.” his sighed. “So, if you want to know, now it’s one-sided. He couldn’t feel my pain.”

“So, Jason doesn’t know.” Tim bit his tongue - but he could still sense the barrier between you and him. Perhaps he didn’t even realize he was worrying.

“There's no point in making him worry.” Dick said decisively, even impassively. He clearly had no intention of talking over the issue. “But I promise we will have the conversation, after this.”

He started the engine again before Tim could make objection and waited for 30 seconds at the exit. As soon as he heard the roar of the other motorcycle engine, his bike leapt forward, rushing out of the Batcave.

“At least, you need aspirin! Right now!” Tim shouted.

Dick made a gesture of dissent.

Muttering a curse, Tim revved the engine to full power. They soon disappeared into the night.


	7. Chapter 7

Jason kicked his way through the window of an abandoned building, managed to avoid further injury to his right leg while landing on the dusty floor with a forward somersault. The creaking of the broken glass beneath his body sounded surprisingly loud. As soon as he got on his feet, he started moving in a crouched position, tucked away in a secluded corner of the room, and tried to hold his breath. A few minutes later, the crackling of gunfire finally receded into the distance.

Tonight was all messed up.

Contrary to the impression he gave others, Jason was a man with a plan. He often had to confront multiple enemies, so he used to plan ahead to determine what weapons he would carry or if he would need backup. However, it wasn’t supposed to be one of the Code-Red nights. That was why he only had two HK-USPs, less than thirty bullets, a pair of combat knives, as well as a bunch of bat-gadgets when he was ambushed. Up until tonight, he didn’t feel like he and Falcone were at each other's throats. There should be room for negotiation at least. Unfortunately, it turned out he was so wrong. As for now, the Roman clearly wanted him dead.

From this perspective, Jason was not doing too bad – Afterall, members of his family were all notoriously hard to kill.

Although matters did not go as planned, he managed to survive again.

Jason waited a couple more minutes to make sure he was all clear. Then, he could finally calm his frayed nerves a bit. Thanks to the adrenaline flowing through his body, he barely felt the pain at this point, but apparently, he would have to deal with the aftereffects later. After he was resurrected, he saw himself as an overdriven machine, which was broken and patched – though the components were poorly put together, somehow, they were still functioning. He could walk, think, talk, or eat food like a normal person, but he knew this was only something superficial.

He still wasn’t sure what all the trophies he got from his journey to hell were. Anger management issue, damage to his brain, an overly wounded body, the list went on and on.

Jason tapped on his helmet. Part of the screen was cracked on impact, but the night vision and the AR system were still functioning. The comms was not working though. He pulled out his back-up comms and turned it on. However, he didn’t reach out to anyone - he could call his men to pick him up, but he wanted to avoid any further losses before he found out Falcone’s intention. Drawing a heavy sigh, Jason unzipped his jacket and was hit by the smell of blood right away. Thanks to Kevlar, he probably had only one or two broken ribs and an abrasion on his thigh. Not too bad. Well, it seemed that the wound to his lower left side of the abdomen was re-aggravated, and It was bleeding again. Dick’s bandaging work was in vain.

Dick. Fuck.

Jason grunted and shook his head, as if that would get the name out of his head.

Somehow, he still found it unsettling until he hung up the phone with Tim. Dick gave up too easily today - not that he had any complaints. For the past two years, they were barely intimate. At least, most of the time Dick stayed well out of his private life, and that meant Dick had only intervened with Jason’s job a few times, by offering timely help which Jason could hardly refuse … as in this case.

From what he knew of Dick, Jason should have been grateful. Family dinners? Holiday greetings? Movie nights? Or collaborative missions? Thanks, but no thanks. Truly.

However, over the last few days, he did notice something which had been ignored by him consciously or unconsciously before.

If it wasn’t about the whole family thing, what was the reason for Nightwing’s determination to maintain the tenuous links between them? Did he see saving Red Hood as part of his responsibility? Did he regard Jason as a kid he failed to save? Or his young, irascible, paranoid successor who had come back from hell falsely?

Jason managed to lean back in the corner without further aggravating his wound before pulling out a disposable needle with haemostatic drug to inject himself. He could imagine the look on Dick’s face when he saw the mess Jason was in – the same look he had when he was patching up Jason’s gunshot wound in a disapproving silence. Although Dick looked calm and rational, Jason still saw the suppressed, almost imperceptible desperation in those eyes, as if he could never escape from the pain brought by his secret.

Dick Grayson would never talk about his own pain. That’s just who he was. Picture of self-restraint.

Jason realized that he couldn’t get the answer from Dick directly. To clarify his increasing confusion before it became unbearable, he finally went against his nature and turned to Tim Drake.

He was contemplating something he could hardly admit even to himself - deep in his heart, he still hoped that Dick could be free from the excessive burden he chose to carry before those dragged him to death.

The path of death was a cul-de-sac.

Followed by the intermittent electrical noise, Jason’s back up comms rang.

“Boss!” An anxious, urgent male voice said, “we've gotten reports of a gun battle in the east of the city. It was said that Falcone’s men started the fight. The cops are gathering! No bat has been spotted yet, but we can’t be sure if they are involved. I know you said Batman left Gotham two days ago, but - uh - boss? Are you there? Everything okay over there?”

“I’m fine, Gael.” Jason said simply, keeping his voice steady and calm. “Stand by till I give the order. Remember to avoid confrontation.”

After getting in contact with Jason, Gael Gibson sounded relieved a bit. “Okay, gotcha. Boss, if you need any help -”

Suddenly, Jason sensed something _off_. The heavy gunfire on the street had stopped roaring. He could hear the police sirens outside the broken windows, but besides that, he captured a faint sound of something moving through the air. Noticing that someone was approaching from the sky, he held his USP silently, with his finger on the trigger.

“I’ll get back to you. Going radio silent.” he said briefly, and hung up. He didn’t tell his man the details of his deal with the mysterious supplier, and it didn’t sound like a very good idea to explain the situation to Gael in a gun fight. Though he did trust this guy's loyalty for some reason.

Twelve seconds later, Jason leaned back against the wall, got down on one knee, and raised his gun to the second wave of intruders in this derelict building.

Two men came through the window and landed on the second floor in almost the same position. They didn’t stop arguing even when they got on their feet.

“Got a ping on him. He should be around here somewhere. Umm, now it's gone.”

“Damn. I need to contact him directly.”

“It’s not wise. We don’t know what happened to Hood. Things could only get worse if we expose his relationship with us - you know that better than I do.”

“But -”

“Calm down, please? By the way, I'm still mad at you. You owe me an explanation.” The voice paused for a second, and then asked, “how's your pain? Where does it hurt?”

“Pain in the lower abdomen and right leg. but it’s in remission.”

“Great. So, the only good news is he must be alive.” The voice of the younger boy said wryly.

“Timmy -”

“Damn! What the hell are you doing?” Stopping himself from pulling the trigger by instinct, Red Hood, who had been under the threat of death all night, couldn’t help but yelled at the one in the familiar-looking, blue and black Kevlar suit.


	8. Chapter 8

Tim Drake was acting weird tonight. Not that Jason knew what his normal state should be like.

Jason’s attitude toward his successor had always been subtle. His disappointment and anger over being replaced led to raging on the new Robin. However, the boy was smart enough to see beyond that. Tim managed to avoid conflict with Jason, mostly. That was why they could grudgingly get along. In extremely rare circumstances, they even helped each other out with their missions.

Once in a while, Jason felt like he was almost a saint.

“No, I’m not going to the Batcave. Not a chance. It’s just a flesh wound.” He told Tim, with his arms folded.

“After you were chased by Falcone’s men for more than two hours and nearly got yourself killed?” Tim countered, in an unusual harsh tone, “I think otherwise, Hood.”

His aggressive attitude was … intriguing.

Jason put down his gun and slowly stood up against the wall to get a sight of Nightwing. In fact, he didn’t ignore Dick or his conspicuous silence, not for a moment. When Jason tried to move his broken leg, from the corner of his eye, he saw Dick taking his lower lip between his teeth. That was not a surprise

Jason sighed silently, then force his attentions back on the more immediate issue.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Jason growled in a very low voice. “Are you giving me orders now? How did you know I was attacked? And how did you get involved in _my_ case?”

The last question was clearly asked to the other person who had been oddly silent. He wouldn’t doubt for a second that Dick was responsible for this, since this man had a history of playing tricks behind Jason’s back, and Jason didn’t like any of these.

“If that’s what you call the situation when I'm worrying about my family, then I am.” Tim said, staring back unflinchingly. “You would need help. Plus, it’s not wise to leave our sight before your wounds are taken care of, or before we can ensure your safety.”

“Trust me, It's the best for everyone.” Tim pushed even further.

“Obviously, it’s not for me.” Jason rolled his eyes. That went too far. He felt sore all over his body when the adrenaline was gone. All he wanted for now was to go back to any of his safe houses with no Bat around and sleep off his exhaustion, so he could blow up Falcone’s nest with twenty pounds of C4 the next morning.

“Just fuck off and leave me alone!” He waved his hand impatiently and limped to the whirring window. “I’m not in the mood for another fight.”

Or Grayson’s pity.

But before he could grapple away, he was stopped by Dick, who had remained silent since they met, and completely ignored the get-out-of-my-way stare Jason gave him. Not that it ever worked on Dick.

“Don’t make me hurt you,” Jason grumbled.

“Someone wants you dead.” Dick said, looking into his eye.

Jason should just knock over Dick and slip away, but the fragile look on Dick’s face stopped him. He still seemed shaky while his fingers tightened whitely upon the sill. Even in the dim light, Jason didn’t miss the fresh bruises on his face or the cut on his lower lip.

Where’d he get all those minor wounds if he wasn’t injured during the fighting?

The glass box. Even now, Jason could still feel it. If Dick were so hesitant, why would he bother telling Jason the truth?

“Wow! Someone tried to kill me? That’s big news for me. It’s going to hit the front page of the Gotham Villain Daily!” Jason looked him straight in the eye and said, with a wry smile. “Tell me something I don’t know, Goldie.”

“We have reason to suspect that the whole trade is a trap set for you, so -” Dick frowned. It was too late when Jason noticed there was a hint of apology in Dick’s tone. Jason went on high alert, but then he felt a tingle at the back of his neck.

“I’m so sorry, Jay.”

Jason wanted to yell at them but the words stuck in his throat. The last scene he saw before falling unconscious was the anesthetic needle in Tim’s hand and Dick’s hands reaching toward him as Dick got down on his knees.

Holly shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This's a short chapter. Hope I can finish the next one this weekend.  
> Don't worry, the author said they would have a happy ending.


End file.
